


Wine and Dine

by skepticalshoulderpads



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 12:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14619023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skepticalshoulderpads/pseuds/skepticalshoulderpads
Summary: Mulder and Scully go on their first date. It is, of course, awkward.





	Wine and Dine

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this (https://skepticalshoulderpads.tumblr.com/post/173777394602/allyinthekeyofx-edierone) post on Tumblr.

“You know, we could just stay in. Order a pizza, watch a movie.” 

She has no reason to be nervous. She’s been on dates before, she’s in her mid-thirties, for goodness sake, and it isn’t like she and Mulder haven’t been sleeping together for months anyway. But sitting in the passenger seat of Mulder’s car, Scully is sweating a just little too much to blame it on the balmy evening, fidgeting with her cross, feeling like she’s sixteen again and a cute boy is taking her to prom and she’s forgotten how to dance. Beside her, Mulder groans.

“Will you just let me woo you for once, Scully?” he asks, pouting in a way that simultaneously makes her want to roll her eyes and kiss that plump lower lip. Woo indeed. She considers trying to seduce him, because she knows for a fact that he will turn this car around if she lies tells him she isn’t wearing panties, but before she can formulate a plan he’s parking. Damn. Why is she so nervous?

She’s barely out of the car before Mulder is looming over her, petulant puppy face firmly in place. “You’re supposed to let me open the door for you, you know,” he mutters, trailing behind her as she ushers them both into the restaurant.

“I’m also supposed to avoid dating my partner, so you should consider yourself lucky, Agent Mulder.” She means it teasingly, doesn’t consider her wording until she sees Mulder’s eyebrows raise at the word dating, and - fuck, she didn’t want to have The Talk like this, standing awkwardly in a crowded restaurant lobby.

“Dating your partner, huh?” Mulder asks, making a show of considering the idea. “Sounds pretty official. So Scully, are we going steady, as the kids say?”

“I don’t think the kids say that anymore,” she offers lamely, buying herself time. The idea of dating seems so trite compared to what they have, but she’s not against the idea, but then there’s the pesky problem of Bureau regulations… does Mulder even want to be dating her? She thinks so, maybe, but besides a hint of amusement, his gaze is unreadable. 

It’s the waiter who saves her in the end, announcing their table is ready, and Scully makes it to the back of the restaurant without further incident. She even allows Mulder to pull out her chair for her, which he does with flourish. It’s sweet, really, how hard he’s trying. He’s wearing one of his nicest suits, and she thinks he’s even gotten a new haircut. His tie is characteristically ugly, but a little more flamboyant than usual. She doesn’t think she’s seen it before - does he have a whole stash of tacky special occasion ties? 

“Hey Scully, my eyes are up here,” he leers at her, nudging her ankle with his foot.

“You’re very lucky, you know,” she muses, slowly dragging her gaze up to meet his. “A less handsome man could never get away with the ugly ties you wear.” 

“Ooh, Scully, you think I’m handsome?” 

“Of course. I only agreed to go out with you because of your looks, you know,” she deadpans, and he chuckles.

“Good. I’ve always wanted to be a trophy boyfriend.” Boyfriend. So they’re back to that. She takes a healthy sip of wine and pretends that she isn’t over-analyzing his every word. They busy themselves with their menus and hover somewhere between awkward and comfortable silence until the waiter returns to save them again.

Scully gets the fish special, side of steamed broccoli, and pointedly ignores Mulder’s eye roll. He gets the steak frites, well done, extra frites, and she spares him the lecture on his diet because they’re supposed to be having a nice time, and because the waiter’s scandalized look at his steak preferences conveys enough judgment for both of them. 

“The Yankees played really well last night.” She can tell from his face that he knows that his attempt at smalltalk is a non-starter, so she feigns only mild interest. For someone who tosses around innuendo with such ease, Scully suspects he knows very little about how to talk to a girl once he manages to wrangle her on a date. 

“So I got a chance to look over those autopsy notes from Evanston,” she tries. Mulder nods, interested, and she snags a handful of fries from his plate before continuing. “I think you’re right about it being an X-File. I’ve never seen anything quite like it - from the way the muscle tissue looks, it’s like the victim was being digested from the inside out -”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about work,” Mulder cuts her off, grimacing down at his steak. Oh. She half-heartedly offers him some broccoli, but he waves it away, looking offended. “Ordering steamed broccoli at a fancy restaurant is a waste,” he declares, digging back into his steak. Scully pours herself another glass of wine and downs half of it.

“So, um, anyway. About what you said earlier.” He looks up at her expectantly. He’s going to make her say it. “You know, about whether or not we’re dating.” He nods, maddeningly patient. “I think labelling our relationship is a little… redundant and unnecessary, at this point, because I don’t think either of us is seeing anyone else, and we’re limited by our positions in the Bureau in regards to how public we can be, but I’m not opposed to calling this dating, if that’s what you want.” She cuts herself off with another long sip of wine, because she’s rambling and she’s woefully unprepared to have this conversation with her best friend and colleague of seven years.

“I would be honored to date you, Dana Scully.” He clinks his wine glass with hers, and she breathes a sigh of relief because she knew how he would answer, and they’ve slept together more times than she can count, now, and they’ve even exchanged sleepy I-love-yous, but really, there’s no graceful way to ask your less-than-platonic colleague if he’s your boyfriend. “I’d offer to give you my letter jacket, but that might be a little too obvious. We could get matching tattoos. Get each other’s names somewhere only we would see… I’m kidding,” Mulder winces, rubbing his shin. “That’s not fair. Those pointy shoes hurt way more.”

“I don’t think I kicked you. Sounds like an X-File.” She ignores his pout, absorbing herself in the dessert menu. “I could go for some crème brûlée, what do you think?” He makes a show of studying the menu, even making interested little noises as he weighs his options, but the toe of his shoe is trailing up her bare calf and his thumb is stroking her wrist and she should laugh at him for playing footsie with her in the middle of this stupid restaurant, but all she can think about is getting him out of here as fast as possible.

“You know, I think I’d rather eat dessert at home.” She nods her enthusiastic agreement, and Mulder pulls out a generous amount of cash for the check. She should offer to split it, but really, after all these years and all the crappy diners and truck stops, Mulder owes her a nice dinner. So she lets him play the gentleman and pay the bill, lets him pull out her chair for her, lets him open all the doors, even. They barely make it outside before Mulder sweeps her into the alley beside the restaurant, pinning her against the wall, his breath hot against her forehead, hands groping at her waist. 

“We can’t do this here, Mulder,” she reminds them both gently, kissing his jaw in consolation. He nods, not moving.

“I know. I just needed to do this.” He ghosts his lips across hers, planting featherlight kisses across her cheek, his hands kneading her ass. “Scully,” he sighs into her ear, and she melts, wine drunk and resigned to the idea that she is going to fuck him, right here in this alley. He leans in closer, plants one more kiss on her neck. “My ties are not ugly.”

And just like that he withdraws from her, strutting off to the car with a grin. She should have kicked him twice.


End file.
